Written on a blank leaf of Swift's Works.
WHILE in morocco modern authors shine,
Pompously dull, and most absurdly fine;
While ev'n my pages own the printer's pain,
His skill to strengthen trifles us'd in vain;
Lo! with bad type, brown paper, bound in calf,
Dean, Drapier, Gulliver, and Bickerstaff!
You say, good Richard, though you rhime so well,
The publishers exclaim, your book won't sell!
I'll tell you, Dick, you rail at dunces, look!
And none but dunces ever read your book.
FORTUNE, I say, is no unequal whore,
Fears to the rich she gives, and promise to the poor.
TIME destroys all things below, or above,
And we destroy time, so we're equal, by Jove.
"Thou shalt not steal," good counsellor, be still; "Thou shalt not murder," doctor, spare thy pill.
ONE God, two bibles, three great signs adore,
Add faith, thou infidel, and make up four.
ODE TO A MOUSE.
SAY, gentle vermin, art thou smit
With curious love of classic wit?
Else, why so slily creep along,
Enamour'd, nibbling sacred song;
Else why in poet's trunk intrude,
Where nought remains but tuneful food:
If oh! perchance, in thy small size,
(Tremendous foe!) some critic lies;
John Dennis, once of voice supreme,
Now dwindled to a sweeter scream,
If so, forbear the charming prey,
Critic, or mouse, away! away!
WHILE Homer and Horace provide you a feast,' You've mangled my poems, odsbud where's your taste?
ACTEON his dogs eat, bones, body, and all,
But his horns are yet to be seen at Guildhall.
EPIGRAMMA BIDERMANI.
TESTATURA Viro salvum Kunigunda pudorem,
In cadente libens vomere fecit iter:
Exploratorem sed ubi pede contigit ignem,
Non fuit in planta sensus, in igne fuit.
THE fearless saint, inviolably chaste,
Bold trial! o'er the burning ploughshare past:
When the red torture kiss'd her hallow'd heel,
The fire, and not the foot, then learn'd to feel.
J. SCALIGER'S EPIGRAM
On the sonnets of Petrarch.
QUAM pulchra flamma incaluit tibi vena, lepores
Quanti insunt numeris, Dive Petrarche, tuis?
Nec virgo abludit nec dives vena, videtur
Arsisse hic Daphnen alter Apollo suam.
PETRARCH! how bright a flame illum'd thy breast!
Unrival'd wit in smoothest numbers drest.
Nor the sweet Muse, nor yet the maid belov❜d,
Were coy, but both alike thy suit approv'd;
Methinks, while I peruse the charming strain,
Apollo wooes his Daphne o'er again.
To number, to add, or to multiply more,
Old miser avails not in thy sad contrition;
To give thee some zest with thy ill-gotten store,
Then pri'thee, lean penitent, learn division.
PRETTY one, on thy soft lip grows
A pearl, like dew-drop on the rose;
Let me then, like the sun's bright ray,
Exhale the honey'd drop away.
PENSIVE one, say, why weeps thine eye,
Streaming like an ev'ning sky,
Which, like the gentle moon, should move,
Lighting to ecstacy and love!
CRUEL one, thou hast kill'd my heart,
Beyond the cunning'st leech's art ;
Panting long time, at last, at last
Its foolish strugglings quickly past;
GENTLE one, thou, perchance, complain
Because the tender thing is slain;
If so, and thou dost wish to save,
Smile, and redeem it from the grave.
Imitated from the Spanish of Cervantes.
KIND Guardian! if you will, you may
With bolts, and bars, oppose my way;
In ev'ry nook set guards, and spies,
To watch me with their Argus-eyes;
But if my heart is fixed on flight,
You may as well wish me good night.
By sages shrewd it has been said,
'Tis wond'rous hard to hold a maid;
And Love, all furious when confin'd,
But fiercer fires the stubborn mind;
'Tis better then, since force is vain,
To turn the lock, and loose the chain;
For if my heart is fix'd on flight,
You may as well wish me good night.
If sov'reign will commands to go,
What fool will face so rash a foe?
'Twill strike ev'n wakeful caution blind,
And through death's self a passage find;
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